


Mail Order Papyrus

by Anonymous



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Deal With It, Fictional Foreighn Language, Language Barrier, M/M, Mail Order Bride, Mail Order Bride made easy, Pap learns english too fast AND too slow?, Paps does not speak english, Shitty English Lessons, made stupidly easy, statistically speaking there will probably be a wedding, this isn’t how this works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Drunk Slim should not be allowed to do things. Drunk Slim has too much access to Sober Slim’s bank information, no impulse control, and finds certain thingsway too funnywhen browsing the internet at 3AM in the morning.OrSlim accidentally orders a mail order bride and this was Not. Supposed. To. Happen.
Relationships: Mapleblossom, Puprus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Anonymous





	Mail Order Papyrus

**Author's Note:**

> I have wanted to write a mail order bride story since I received my first “Hot Russian Brides Interested In You” spam email back in the day. I know truthfully, being a mail order bride isn’t the greatest thing, but hey: this is fiction! And what if it was~!

How come every time Red invited him out to go get a few drinks; it always ended with Slim making terrible decisions for himself? 

Well, in his defence, it usually ended with both of them making equally bad decisions, he thought as Red did his damnedest to seduce yet another bartender at the other side of the bar. And, also in his defence, he wouldn’t have gotten bored enough to find trouble if Red hadn’t abandoned him for said bartender in the first place. 

Bored, smashed, and left to his own devices, was a perfect recipe for disaster and—if Slim could stop giggling over how funny this would be in the morning—he might have even been inclined to care.

This was hardly the first prank he’d left for himself to find when he finally crawled out of bed in the mid-to-late afternoon the next day. Hell, he wasn’t even sure this was the first one he’d set up tonight. All that mattered was that he would definitely find it funny in the morning. And while he had never once appreciated these little ‘surprises’ before, this particular alcohol-inspired eureka moment was shaping up to be well worth its weight in hung-over moaning. 

_’she’s cute…’_ he thought, pausing in his swiping to consider the image of yet another pretty monster before eventually flicking past it. This latest stroke of genius had come with a pretty pricey membership fee, and—even as smashed as he was—he knew he needed something _special_ to actually justify the cost. It had to be perfect. It had to be something that would _really_ freak him the fuck out. It had to be something like-

The next image to pop up on the screen nearly startled the sober back into him. Nothing but beautiful white bones, gorgeous figure, and an absolutely precious smile that knocked his drunk-ass right into dissociating so hard he forgot for a good moment what he was even doing. 

Blinking his way back to reality, Slim’s sinister chuckle was nothing short of pure evil. 

Perfect. 

Clicking through all the appropriate buttons, he just began filling out whatever forms popped up on screen. He was probably signing away a kidney or something. Whatever. He’d sell a kidney to talk to this guy. He could figure out where to get a kidney later. 

His credit card info? Fuck it. 

Address? Go nuts. 

Social security? Yolo, right? 

Finally, countless forms out of the way, he was left with the blank expanse of a private message box. Grinning to himself like a complete and total lunatic, Slim eagerly typed out: 

[ hey, sweetheart~ wanna get hitched? ]

. . . . .

The shrill of the alarm clock was so sharp Slim would have shot himself in a heartbeat if he’d had a gun on hand. Fortunately unarmed, he chose to silence it with the smack of his hand, before letting his arm slip off, dragging the device to clatter on the floor.

His skull felt like that one time he’d lit sparklers inside his sockets on a dare (that had been a bad idea), and he couldn’t remember how the fuck he’d gotten home, or really anything that happened after Red set that one table on fire and got them kicked out of the second bar. 

Groaning weakly, his hand swiped blindly across the floor, then his mattress, until he found something smooth and phone-shaped hidden amidst the blankets. There were five messages—of various degrees of legibility—asking if he’d gotten home okay, which was great because that meant he was an asshole who’d promised to text when he made it and _forgot_. A- _fucking_ -gain. 

But a little more pressing than that was the three alerts from his bank citing a number of very LARGE transactions he was almost _positive_ he hadn’t approved of. Further investigation led him to a series of emails welcoming him to MonsterWives __. __com, thanking him for approving the use of his information, and one claiming his message had received a response, which just said:

[ YES. <3 ] 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
